Read Online Asimov's Science Fiction: October/November 2013 by Penny Publications - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Penny Publications
Tags: Asimov's #453 & #454
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picked and pulled at other places until the itching stopped. After twenty minutes, translucent skin strips littered the room.
The light changed. Through the window, I could see sunlight and patches of blue sky. I stretched out my arms underneath the skylight, but the sun didn't feel right. My skin began to prickle again. Real sun, that's what I wanted, not the filtered kind.
Then Mom's voice—soft and calm—sounded in my earplants. "Maxie, are you awake? The rain washed away all of the petal residue, and the ecotechs have called the all-clear! Rise and shine. Quarantine's over!"
"Yeah," I replied, and felt dizzy. "I'll be right down, Mom." I knelt and pushed the skin strips under the bed, and then pulled my fake fur rug to cover the smaller pieces stuck to the floorboards. I couldn't let her know. She'd ground me for the rest of my life and never stop saying "I told you so."
In the bathroom, I hung a towel over the mirror because I didn't want to see how awful I looked. I rubbed creams all over my body and stole a tube of Mom's foundation from the make-up drawer. Only after I smeared it on my face and head did I dare peek in the mirror to make sure I hadn't missed a spot. I pulled on a long-sleeved plastic tunic and baggy pants. With my lumino-kohl pen, I zigzagged lightning bolt eyebrows on my forehead and spider web patterns all over my hands to hide the tendrils. I rummaged in the closet and found a hat from Mom's collection with a brim huge enough to cast my face in shadow.
When I came downstairs, Mom complimented me on the hat and pointed out the front window. No more petal muck! The grass was vivid, like the day-glo paint I used in kindergarten. And there were people outside! Neighbors paraded around like it was the Fourth of July and kids were turning cartwheels on the opposite lawn.
But Mom insisted we stay inside. She gave me a glass of instant orange juice and called another summit. We sat at opposite ends of the dining room table and listened as the neighbors set off firecrackers.
Mom took off her tri-cornered hat and set it on the table. I left my hat on and hunched in the chair.
"Now that the quarantine is over, we need to agree on a plan. I've gotten word from school that they'll reopen in a few days. And I have to return to work. So I've decided to cut a deal with you."
My arms and hands began to prickle. I could feel those pink tendrils gouging through my palms and into each finger, up as far as the cuticles.
"Are you listening?"
I nodded and sat on my hands.
"I'll allow you to return to school on two conditions. First, you must promise to stop drawing lines all over yourself. It's not funny, Maxie."
"Xam," I said. "Call me Xam."
"Second, despite the all-clear, I don't think it's safe outside. It may never be safe. The ecotechs can't know the full effects of those petals."
I imagined hordes of ecotechs kidnapped by spiders, and Becca with waist-length tendrils instead of her long red hair.
"Maxie? Are you listening?"
"Yes, Mom."
"I've been reading on the Eco-Smart newsgroup that those photos on the gossipvids may not have been a hoax after all."
A firecracker burst outside. I flinched. My skin prickled, and I felt the tendrils swirl all over my body.
"I know that this month must have seemed like forever to you, but in the grand scheme of things, it's really nothing."
I inched my right hand out from under my thigh and picked at the thumbnail with my index finger. The cuticle throbbed. Probing around the edges, I loosened the thumbnail.
"I'll allow you to return to school—and even to have limited com privileges again—"
"What about Dad and Becca?"
"Excuse me?"
"Can I talk to them? Isn't it their turn to take me for a week?"
Mom slumped a little and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Honestly, honey, there's been no word yet from Brazil. I'm sure they'll contact you as soon as they return."
"I don't believe you."
"Fine. You can call them yourself when we're done."
"So
The light changed. Through the window, I could see sunlight and patches of blue sky. I stretched out my arms underneath the skylight, but the sun didn't feel right. My skin began to prickle again. Real sun, that's what I wanted, not the filtered kind.
Then Mom's voice—soft and calm—sounded in my earplants. "Maxie, are you awake? The rain washed away all of the petal residue, and the ecotechs have called the all-clear! Rise and shine. Quarantine's over!"
"Yeah," I replied, and felt dizzy. "I'll be right down, Mom." I knelt and pushed the skin strips under the bed, and then pulled my fake fur rug to cover the smaller pieces stuck to the floorboards. I couldn't let her know. She'd ground me for the rest of my life and never stop saying "I told you so."
In the bathroom, I hung a towel over the mirror because I didn't want to see how awful I looked. I rubbed creams all over my body and stole a tube of Mom's foundation from the make-up drawer. Only after I smeared it on my face and head did I dare peek in the mirror to make sure I hadn't missed a spot. I pulled on a long-sleeved plastic tunic and baggy pants. With my lumino-kohl pen, I zigzagged lightning bolt eyebrows on my forehead and spider web patterns all over my hands to hide the tendrils. I rummaged in the closet and found a hat from Mom's collection with a brim huge enough to cast my face in shadow.
When I came downstairs, Mom complimented me on the hat and pointed out the front window. No more petal muck! The grass was vivid, like the day-glo paint I used in kindergarten. And there were people outside! Neighbors paraded around like it was the Fourth of July and kids were turning cartwheels on the opposite lawn.
But Mom insisted we stay inside. She gave me a glass of instant orange juice and called another summit. We sat at opposite ends of the dining room table and listened as the neighbors set off firecrackers.
Mom took off her tri-cornered hat and set it on the table. I left my hat on and hunched in the chair.
"Now that the quarantine is over, we need to agree on a plan. I've gotten word from school that they'll reopen in a few days. And I have to return to work. So I've decided to cut a deal with you."
My arms and hands began to prickle. I could feel those pink tendrils gouging through my palms and into each finger, up as far as the cuticles.
"Are you listening?"
I nodded and sat on my hands.
"I'll allow you to return to school on two conditions. First, you must promise to stop drawing lines all over yourself. It's not funny, Maxie."
"Xam," I said. "Call me Xam."
"Second, despite the all-clear, I don't think it's safe outside. It may never be safe. The ecotechs can't know the full effects of those petals."
I imagined hordes of ecotechs kidnapped by spiders, and Becca with waist-length tendrils instead of her long red hair.
"Maxie? Are you listening?"
"Yes, Mom."
"I've been reading on the Eco-Smart newsgroup that those photos on the gossipvids may not have been a hoax after all."
A firecracker burst outside. I flinched. My skin prickled, and I felt the tendrils swirl all over my body.
"I know that this month must have seemed like forever to you, but in the grand scheme of things, it's really nothing."
I inched my right hand out from under my thigh and picked at the thumbnail with my index finger. The cuticle throbbed. Probing around the edges, I loosened the thumbnail.
"I'll allow you to return to school—and even to have limited com privileges again—"
"What about Dad and Becca?"
"Excuse me?"
"Can I talk to them? Isn't it their turn to take me for a week?"
Mom slumped a little and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Honestly, honey, there's been no word yet from Brazil. I'm sure they'll contact you as soon as they return."
"I don't believe you."
"Fine. You can call them yourself when we're done."
"So
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